Sunday, August 12, 2007
How I Broke the Bank
Obtaining money in Moscow seems fairly easy, on the surface. There are numerous businesses on every major downtown street which exchange rubles, euros, and dollars, and ATMs abound as well.
Upon our arrival in the city, we had no rubles with which to pay our landlord, Viktor, for the apartment (picture is of the exterior) we had rented. Viktor spoke very little English, but agreed to take us to a nearby bank to withdraw some cash to pay him for our lodging. We timidly followed him through a maze of apartment buildings in our square, and across some streets. He pointed to various buildings and identified them in Russian, giving us the grand tour, I suppose. We politely nodded and smiled although we had no clue what he was saying.
At the ATM, I inserted my debit card, and followed the instructions on the screen, which thankfully had an English option. I was frustrated, but not surprised, when the screen flashed with the message that my card was not valid. We’d had trouble with this card previously. A couple of other customers had entered the small foyer, and were waiting in line behind me to use the machine.
I thought I could quickly use a different card. After inserting the second card, I instantly knew something was wrong when I heard a strange whirring noise which did not stop. I tried to press “Cancel” on the screen, but it was frozen. I pressed all the buttons to no avail, while the whirring noise continued.
I looked back helplessly at Viktor and my husband who were standing to the back of the vestibule. “It’s not working,” I mouthed desperately to my husband. He came over, and had no luck getting the machine to emit cash or card. Then Viktor came forward to see what the problem was. “It’s not working!” I repeated, and Viktor understood. He went inside the bank to get help.
The customers in line in back of me began to get restless. I tried smiling apologetically, but there was no sympathy in return. The machine kept whirring. In my head I rehearsed a Russian term, “izvineetye” (excuse me), hoping to prevent hostility. Just then Viktor came back with a large, stern woman. She did not speak to me, but her look was not pleasant. She used a key to open up the front of the machine, and we could see my card sliding in and out, making the whirring noise.
The woman tried to grab my card, and nearly had her fingers sucked back into the machine with it. She was not happy. She fired off some angry Russian to Viktor, who responded slowly, and I hope, in my defense. The woman stalked into the bank, and returned with a man who turned the machine completely off. The woman retrieved my card and glowered at all of us standing around watching the rescue operation. She held up the card and asked a question which I intuitively knew that answering might mean some sort of jail time for me.
I grabbed my card with a whispered “spasiba” and made a dash for the door, leaving Viktor to give some sort of explanation. I heard the woman say something to the other customers that resulted in their response with something akin to hisses and boos. I realized they would not be getting their money either.
Fortunately, the bank employee did not give us any further hassle, and none of the irate customers bothered us either. Viktor took us to another of the plentiful ATMs, and we quickly and easily procured our rubles, and paid him. He was happy, and we were relieved.
After that incident, we let our Russian-speaking and Russian-savvy son handle our money matters.
Comments:
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Don't Russians always sound angry, no matter what they are saying? Who knows, maybe she wasn't half as upset as she seemed...then again, maybe she was. :-)
Wow, I would be sweating profusely... so what was the problem with it? Since it worked at another machine... Not sure I"m interested in visiting Russia...
One of my worst nightmares has always been that of being in a foreign country with no access to funds. What are you supposed to do in that situation? Nicely handled.
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